


Hellfire

by JocelynTorrent



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/F, First Time, Fluff, I think there's some fluff, Religious Conflict, Religious Guilt, Romance, does anyone browse these kinda tags, idk fam I never even played this game but kate marsh tho, marshfield
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6477586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JocelynTorrent/pseuds/JocelynTorrent
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kate takes a plunge that will change her life forever. She only hopes she can live with the consequences, and that her reasons were worth it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hellfire

Max gives her that look again. That slow smirk building in the corners of her mouth. They’re both so shy, and sometimes it’s a pity. Because sometimes Kate wants Max to overtake her, to take charge and take her and…take. And if Max does it, then it doesn’t feel like such a sin to want it. She knows she thinks about it more than she should. She thinks of it in the morning when she studies her face in the bathroom mirror and pulls her hair back into the same bun. She thinks of it at breakfast as she rolls hot oatmeal over her tongue. Thinks of it when she falls asleep at night, dreams of it, and thinks of it again during her morning prayer, where she begs forgiveness.

There are two conflicting stereotypes about Christian girls and sex. And in Kate’s case, one of them is painfully true. Her family doesn’t talk about sex and her mother made sure to call the school and render Kate absent on the days they had sex education. She had the internet, of course, but it was laughable to even think about. The computer was in the family room, visible to all, and her mother was none-too-subtle in her monitoring, going so far as to take a seat after Kate or her sisters finished and going through the browser history. Sex and love were taught to her through books and television. But it only made it all the more confusing. How could what the Song of Songs described so eloquently be portrayed so tawdrily by sitcoms? Sex was either hard and hateful or slow and sad. As a young woman, she’d been taught to fear it, fear that which sex would make her. A whore, a sinner, the devil’s own.

She lays awake at night now, thinking of Max, imagining scenarios where Max is on top of her, where their kisses get deeper and hands start to roam. What comes after that, she really doesn’t know. But those thoughts alone send her to her knees, hands clasped in front of her, white-knuckled and shaking as she prays over and over again, begging for forgiveness, salvation, help, and Max.

It’s bad enough that Max is a woman. What Kate herself is doesn’t really matter. Max is a woman and she is in love with her, and technicalities and names and labels all send them to same hell. She knew she was damned ever since she was fourteen, when her young biology teacher dropped the chalk and Kate’s mouth went dry as she bent over to pick it up. There was a stirring in her stomach, a fluttering in her chest, and a pounding in her head as verse after verse poured through her mind, compelling her to let go of those thoughts. By the time she was eighteen, she’d just decided that if she never acted on it, stayed true to her faith and prayed for forgiveness, she might still have a chance.

But then came Max. Shy, awkward, artistic, so unbelievably soft. Fingers gliding over her camera, lip caught between only slightly crooked teeth, searching slowly for the perfect shot. She stands there in her beaten up sneakers, fingers balled up in the stretched sleeves of her hoodie, hair windswept and beautiful as she observes the world in a way Kate will never see. And somewhere between tea dates and jokes, playful touches and stolen glances, Kate resigns herself to hell.

So really, it shouldn’t matter, this. But for some reason it does. Maybe it’s her inexperience and lack of knowledge. Or maybe it’s because there is no going back from sex. Maybe she knows that she stands on the cliff next to Max with hope on one side and hell on the other. And is the rush of the fall worth the flames that wait below? She thinks about this one night, wrapped up in Max’s hoodie that she’d given to her when Kate declared she was cold. It smells of tea, detergent, the faintest scent of cigarettes, likely from Chloe. It brings a smile to her lips, and she looks down at the sleeves, stretched from worry. She wonders if the fibers are mixed, if this hoodie marked Max’s fate the first day she wore it. She prays twice as hard that night, filled with shame at having questioned her beliefs.

But then Max smiles at her, buys her tea, takes her picture and makes her look so beautiful, Kate can’t bring herself to believe that she’s worthy of hell. And if someone as wonderful as Max likes her, then maybe there’s a chance for Kate, too. Or maybe it’s time she just stops caring and takes the plunge. So when Max gives her that smirk in her dorm room, leans in carefully, questioningly, Kate meets her halfway.

They’ve kissed many times. It’s the only thing that quiets her thoughts these days. She loses herself in Max’s closeness, her smell, her taste, her touch, and grows overwhelmed at the thought that Max wants to do this, wants her. Max takes her hand, laces their fingers together, and Kate smiles against her. Soft, slow, sweet, always the same. And Kate knows it’s because Max is being considerate. Often times Max’s gentle fingers have toyed with the cross around her neck, even used it to pull her closer. She’s seen the King James Bible on Kate’s desk, swollen with bookmarked pages, filled with highlights and notes. Kate has never hidden this part of herself, has no plans to. And Max doesn’t ask her to. When Kate slips up and quotes a bible verse, Max just smiles and listens. She doesn’t hitch or look away like the others do, doesn’t make her feel ashamed of her faith, even though Kate feels enough for everyone.

And maybe that’s why Kate pushes into her, dares her tongue along Max’s bottom lip. Max pulls away and Kate can’t help but see the shine to her lips. The fingers surrounding her own tighten, an unspoken question, and Kate’s heart flutters at the gesture. Max has never dared beyond simple kissing and Kate knows it’s because she doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable. They’ve never talked about it, so how would Max know that Kate has thought of her almost every night since their first kiss. That a deep, dark part of her always wants Max to go further, seek more, and take what her mother calls her most precious gift. If it’s truly that, her most precious gift, then Kate is certain she wants Max to have it. If she wants it, that is.

Kate asks this question with a soft, reassuring smile. Max raises her eyebrows and she nods, leaning in again. This time when their lips meet, Kate feels Max’s tongue. Her body tingles, hips jolting forward as Max’s tongue melds with her own. She tastes of the apple tea they’d sampled together, and Kate opens her eyes for a moment to eye the cups on her nightstand, the tea long since cold. The irony is not lost on her. Kate wonders if she tastes the same, if Max is just as overwhelmed. She can’t see Max this up close, but her tongue isn’t shy and that must be a good sign.

She wraps her free hand around Max’s neck, runs her fingers through that short, ever tangled hair and holds her close. Max’s hand comes to rest on her waist, her thumb stroking her gently through her shirt. Kate feels the burn from her slight touch, her skin prickling and yearning for more. Her heart hammers in her chest so loudly she can hear it in her ears. Max scoots closer to her on the bed, her thin jeans brushing against Kate’s bare calf. Kate’s first reaction is to remove them, and heat floods her cheeks at the thought. She still can’t make the first move, can’t commit herself to what she’s about to do. She needs Max to do it for her. She needs Max.

A soft, supplicating moan leaves Kate’s mouth. Max swallows it eagerly, kisses her harder and Kate is happy to oblige, untangling their clasped hands to ghost her fingertips down Max’s neck. Max grabs the other side of her waist, runs her hands upwards, just under her ribs before sliding them back down. Kate cannot suppress the smile at her ever-present concern, nor can she resist the trail of heat that follows those hands up and down her body, sends tingles down her spine and a warmth between her legs that for the first time, she will not ignore.

Scriptures race through her mind, her mother’s disapproving glare, her church back at home. Her knees burn like they did when her mother made her kneel for hours and she pulls them onto the bed. Max’s hand sinks lower, over her hip and down her skirt, stopping when her fingertips skate the bare skin of her thigh. It occurs to Kate that no one has ever touched her there, and another humming thrill shoots through her as Max skates them again, waiting for Kate to tell her to stop. When she doesn’t, Max’s hand travels lower, flattening over the top of her leg. Kate doesn’t realize how sensitive the skin there is until she shivers and feels goose bumps rise. For brief moment she’s struck with shame that she’s giving into temptation so easily. But it feels too good to stop, and there’s nothing left to save.

Max runs her hand all the way down to her knee and circles it before bringing it back up to rest on her waist again. Kate feels the pressure of her hands and responds to it, lying back onto her bed. Max follows her and they lay side by side. Kate loses all track of time. It feels like they’ve been kissing forever, and she wouldn’t mind if it were true; if time had stopped around them and this moment. If only such things were possible. Max seems to feel the same way. Other than the tentative touch to her leg, she’s made no other moves. Kate wonders if she’s scared, too. If she could feel Max’s fingers against her skin, would they be shaking like her own?

Her mind races, clouding in and out of scripture and sex, the two intermingling as she thinks of Song of Songs and Mary Magdalene and the shows she’s seen on television. She grips at Max’s hoodie, so worn and loved, and pulls it closer. Max’s breathe catches, their kiss breaking as she dares to come further, rolling Kate onto her back and resting on top of her. Kate’s hips respond to the weight, rising once to meet Max’s as their eyes meet. Max is questioning her, lips swollen from their kissing. She holds herself up with one hand and brings the other Kate’s cheek. She can’t help but lean into the touch, always gentle and patient. A kindness she doesn’t deserve, and she wonders if Max can feel her body trembling around her.

She tugs on the hoodie instead of answering it, meets Max’s lips again and holds her tightly. When Max pulls away she thinks for a moment that she’s gone too far. That Max is not ready to take this plunge with her, and that she is alone in her suffering. But Max, breathless and red-faced, merely sits up, straddling Kate’s hips with her legs. Kate watches Max’s eyes drift down her face, towards her crisp, white blouse. Her hand lifts, wavering for a moment in the dimmed light of her room, before she places it on Kate’s chest. Kate can feel her finger circling the button of her blouse and her throat goes dry. She swallows and knows that Max must have noticed her breathing quicken. This is it. Her answer decides her fate. She nods once.

Max circles the button again, unconvinced. Kate runs her tongue out over her lips and manages another nod. That slow smirk builds in the corners of Max’s mouth. She takes her time, starting with the top of Kate’s collar and working her way down. Kate watches her, hands on Max’s arms as if she’s worried she’ll run away. And perhaps she might. She feels her blouse fall open, the rush of air to her heated skin. She feels the weight of the cross on her chest, heavy and ice cold. On instinct, she brings her arms across her chest, covering herself. It only makes her feel worse. She has nothing to hide now, no secrets, no shame.

Max’s hands rest upon hers. With a feather light touch she pulls Kate’s arms away, closing her eyes to kiss the palm of each hand. She laces their fingers together and holds them in her lap, fixing Kate with a smile before her eyes travel lower. Kate’s still in her bra. A childish thing now that she thinks about it. White with a soft pink bow in the center. Her breasts aren’t large like what the magazines and movies declare, she’s pale, and there’s a mole on the left side of her bellybutton. She says a quick prayer on instinct, then looks up at Max.

And it’s here that Kate realizes she’s never known true worship until now. Max is breathing slowly, her stomach rising and falling as she takes in the sight before her. Her mouth is parted and Kate can’t hardly bring herself to believe it, but she looks like she’s in awe. She blushes again, turning her head to the side. In the silence she hears Max hushing her softly, feels her lean over her body and place their entwined hands on either side of her head. She kisses Kate, and moves to trail kisses down her jaw. Lips slide up and down Kate’s neck, searching.

Kate surprises herself when her breath catches in her throat, hips rising up and against Max when she reaches a certain spot. Max chuckles against her skin, the warm breaths making her shiver before Max attacks the spot again. Kate is certain this is the first time she’s ever moaned like that. And for a moment she swears she feels Max’s body tense against her. But Max is already moving to the other side and Kate’s body has severed itself from her mind, writhing and jolting and gasping and moaning. Max feeds off of it, lures more out of here with each nibble and smiles against her skin.

There’s an ache between Kate’s legs. A desperation she’s never felt before, and she gives a soft whimper, squeezing Max’s hands in her own. Max sits up again and brings Kate with her. She likes this, likes being on even ground. She likes it even more when Max slides her shirt off of her shoulders and sets it on the floor. Max is smiling, eyes roaming over Kate’s newly exposed shoulders, all the places she’s yet to touch, to mark. And Kate wants her to. She wants Max to make her hers and hers alone, bind them together and ride this hell out together.

Max leans forward and does just that, biting down on Kate’s shoulder. It’s not hard, but she can feel the sharp indents of her canines and sighs into Max’s ear as fingertips graze down her back. Her bra slackens, and Max seems taken with her spine, running her fingertips up and down its valley as she hums in approval. Approval. How long since she’s gotten approval from anyone, herself included? And is it enough? Eyes close to keep back tears and she clutches at Max’s hoodie, pushing it down her arms. Max tosses it carelessly to the floor. Her arms are skinny, dappled with freckles, and Kate wonders how she has the strength to pin her down as she does, hold herself up and still make Kate writhe beneath her.

With a quick tug, Max’s shirt follows the path of her hoodie. Kate’s breaths speed up again, eyes widening at the sight of even more freckles, the slight roll of her stomach above her jeans. She watches Max’s long arms reach behind and undo her own bra. And suddenly they’re the same. And Kate now understands the reverent look in Max’s eyes when she looks upon her. Her hands shake as she reaches out and touches her stomach, feeling it tighten beneath her palms. Her skin is heated and soft and smooth and Kate suddenly needs it against her more than anything else. She curls her fingers along Max’s abdomen, beckoning, and Max obeys, their bodies flush together. It sends pleasurable chills down Kate’s sides and she traces designs in the small of Max’s back, pulling away when she accidentally draws a cross.

Max slides down her body, drawing a line of kisses down her sternum. Kate feels her hands on the outsides of her breasts, testing, waiting in case she wants her to stop. But Kate can’t stop if she wanted to. Every sense but touch is fogged. She can’t make out the pictures on her wall, the smell of their tea. She can only feel Max’s hands ghosting over her nipples and the electric jolt it sends through her body. Her back arches when Max takes one in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it. Instinctively she grabs Max’s head, holds her close while mewls and gasps claw at her throat. The ache between her legs grows stronger, almost painful, and yet she can’t bring herself to ask. In what little she’s learned, sex is always painful the first time around. And she doesn’t want pain. She has too much of it already. She just wants the heat and the pulses and touch of an artist’s hands. And Max is giving it to her, without asking anything in return, except for Kate’s happiness. Kate only hopes she can give it.

She opens her eyes when Max lifts her mouth from her breast. Max is flushed, smiling softly. Kate returns it, confused until she feels fingers on the side zipper of her skirt. Another request. They’re becoming easier and harder to answer at the same time. She wants it, needs it, knows she will get it. But the hesitance lingers, grips at the back of her mind and whispers into her ear. She can still turn back, stop it before she goes too far. But is it worth it? Is it worth the chance of losing a lifetime of happiness, only to be damned anyway? Kate licks her lips again, and pushes her hips into Max’s hand. Max smiles, and for a moment Kate thinks she might cry. But Max just undoes her zipper, and ever so delicately slides the skirt past her thighs. She lays it on Kate’s shirt on the floor, flat so as to avoid wrinkling, and worships her body again.

Kate can’t help it. She feels…sexy in front of Max. Her breasts are small, she’s pale and slender, and her underwear is definitely not Victoria’s Secret. But Max’s eyes are…feral. Her mouth is hungry, fingers twitching at her sides as she looks at all the new places she can touch. And Kate wants to give them to her, wants Max to look at her like this always, to devour her with her eyes and follow it with her hands and mouth. She rolls her hips once, and it breaks the trance. Max exhales slowly and Kate feels a certain sort of rush at spreading her legs and watching Max kneel between them. Ironically, she almost looks as if she’s praying, even as she slides her hands along the outside of Kate’s thighs. She spreads her legs wider and thinks about how she must look sprawled on the bed. Her family would call her a whore, and indeed she is. Shame and excitement fluctuate, sending rushes of heat and pleasure over her skin. Her body begs for more and she wonders what Max can possibly give short of the pain.

Max dusts her hips with kisses, trails her lips along the waistband of her panties as she spiders her fingers up and down her thighs. Occasionally she scratches with her short nails before soothing the pain with her palms. It makes Kate rock her hips into Max’s face. She feels herself brush against Max’s chin and blushes when Max releases a breathy moan.

Fingers linger on her waistband, snapping the elastic softly against her skin. Another request. For all the gleam in her wild eyes, she hasn’t forgotten, and Kate lifts her hips in response, letting Max drag the material down and off. She’s naked now, completely, save for the cross around her neck. And for the embarrassment and awkwardness of it all, there’s something freeing about it. There’s nothing more to hold her back, to hinder her from taking this plunge. Nothing between her and Max or her and her fears. She’s committed herself now. She will see it through.

Max grazes her fingers over the tops of the curls between her legs and smiles kindly. For a moment Kate thinks she’ll finally speak and break this dreamlike, frozen state she’s in. But Max leans over instead, kissing her sweetly like she has so many times before. Kate feels her hand on her stomach, slowly roving back between her legs. Max is patient, despite Kate feeling the heat in their kiss. She wants to give her every opportunity to say no. Her hand rests against Kate’s sex, sending another surge of want through her body. But Max stops kissing her and pulls away, looks down at her with kind eyes and that almost ever present smirk. Kate returns it as best as she can and prepares herself for the pain. Max will be gentle, she reminds herself. Max doesn’t want to hurt her and it will be over quickly.

She tells Max that she’s ready by wrapping her arms around her neck and tries not to tense when she feels the hand between her legs move. A finger slides through her wetness. At first Kate flushes, thinking that she’s gotten too excited, ruined this moment by being so lewd. But Max lets out a shaky sigh and looks at her through half-lidded eyes that Kate is certain are the definition of lustful. She allows herself to relax as best as she can, sinking her hips back onto the bed.

When Max finally touches her, it’s not the penetration she expected. It’s feather-light, ghosting against the outside of her. And the feeling nearly launches her in the air. Her back arches, a sharp gasp piercing the lazy silence of the dorm room as the ache finally, _finally_ subsides. There is no pain, only pleasure, and her hips rock of their own accord against Max’s hand. It’s nothing like what she was allowed to see on TV. It’s slow and tender and wonderful and Max is so deeply focused on her, watching for every move and sound she makes. They’re the only two people in the world, and Kate is Max’s sole focus. The thought alone sends another rush through her body.

Pleasure hits her quickly, sometimes, resulting in a soft cry or gasp. She grips at Max’s back, holds her close when she leans down to kiss her, and meets her eyes when they part. Max is everything, her heaven, hell, sin, and forgiveness. And it burns so good between her legs she wonders why she ever feared the flames. She calls Max’s name out, whispers it, and it falls like a prayer from her lips. Something inside of her is building slowly. She wonders if this is where the pain comes in. There has to be pain somewhere. The pain will consummate the crime, solidify her acceptance of her fate and remind her of her decision. She doesn’t want it, but she needs it. Even as her hips rock faster and lose rhythm, craving Max’s touch. She whimpers, afraid of what’s to come, and Max somehow hears it between her moans because she leans down to kiss her.

Kate feels her tongue, tastes the apple, and the building pressure inside of her releases. Her muscles tense, body trembling as she cries out into Max’s mouth. Stars burst behind her clenched eyes and there is no pain. Just a blinding, all consuming bliss. And even the scriptures in the back of her mind are silenced as her hips slow and her body reclines back onto the bed. Every nerve ending is explosive, setting off shocks and tingles as Max removes her hand and trails it up her side. Max says something, but words are still a foreign concept. Kate can only smile and hum and watch the stars burst behind her eyes.

The first thing she hears when her senses return is Max telling her she loves her. She’s still too fragile to respond, so she cradles Max close to her and listens to the simultaneous beat of their hearts. The whispers come back eventually. They always do. And Kate shuts them out with sleep. If this is hell, she’ll gladly burn forever.

 


End file.
